


Arcadia for Lovers

by MissKeshra



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKeshra/pseuds/MissKeshra
Summary: A re-imagining of the Arcadia for Amateurs side quests with a softer side.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Arcadia for Lovers

“Get back here!” shouted Arthur as he stumbled and lost his footing, sprinting up the hill while chasing after the coyote that was running away with a bag of meat in tow. 

He had to admit this was not how he had imagined his day going. A chase? Sure, but usually those were with people - people he was doing the robbing of. Being robbed though, and by a coyote at that, well Arthur supposed there was a first time for everything. 

Eventually he reached the top of the hill just in time to see the coyote scampering away, the bag abandoned in some rocks. “Yeah that's right, and don't come back!” he hollered for good measure even though the creature couldn't understand him anyway. He picked up the bag and started heading back down.

The fella he was helping out was an interesting one, a fool of a man out to capture pictures of killers and carnivores, though he didn't have an ounce of self preservation in him. He was oddly endearing with his gung-ho attitude, which he supposes is why he bothered sticking around to make sure he didn't get eaten. Not that coyotes are much of a threat for most people, but still. 

“Here ya are, Mr. Mason,” he said, passing the bag back to him. 

“Thank you Mr, uh, Mr. Morgan.” Mason took the bag from him and set it down, resetting it to try and lure the coyotes back, more safely this time. “Truly I am in your debt. You must think me foolish out here trying to capture these magnificent creatures.”

“I don't think what you're doing is foolish at all Mr. Mason - I think you doing it alone is. Didntcha consider hiring someone from these parts to help escort ya and make sure you don't get eaten?”

At that, Mason at least had the sense to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had considered it, but men like yourself aren't cheap to come by I'm afraid. Especially for an endeavor such as this, which is more of a hobby than a project really.”

“People like me ain't cheap, is that so? Well, perhaps I shoulda charged you a protection fee.” He joked, Arthur had no real intention of charging this poor man. He understood having a hobby. He had a few himself. 

“Oh, well, if you need payment-” 

“Tell ya what, Mr. Mason,” he started loudly cutting him off before he could actually offer Arthur money, “hows about you let me sit here for awhile, take some notes and we'll call it even?”

“You're certainly welcome to stay, no one owns the forest after all - at least that I know of. Please,” Morgan said, gesturing to a fallen log to the side of the clearing. 

Arthur took that as his sign to take a seat and did so, pulling out his journal, his pencil, and his charcoal. Every man had his hobbies, and Arthur's was mostly his journal. He liked to write about what he had seen and done, and if it was interesting enough he liked to draw it. All the new animals he sees, the plants he finds (especially the poisonous ones), the towns he visits, and the interesting folks he meets. And he would certainly classify Mr. Mason as interesting. 

So he sat down and started to write about the man and their coyote adventure and then switched to his charcoal to draw the scene in front of him. Mason was currently hunched over his camera, trying to get the scene in focus as he waited on the coyote at the edge of the woods to get closer to the meat. 

After the last few weeks, months… hell, probably years, he's had, Arthur was thankful to have just a few moments of peace and quiet. A silence settled over the clearing aside from Mason's quiet words of encouragement as he waited for a new coyote to visit his bait. 

Arthur settled in and let himself enjoy the peaceful scene and let his hand instinctively draw the scene in front of him. He was currently shading in the man's beard and other smaller details now that he had finished the outline of the drawing. 

“So Mr. Morgan, what is it that you do exactly? You can certainly take care of yourself it seems, not to mention you're very comfortable around these great creatures.” Mason broke the silence, turning his head to face him as he started to move his camera to another portion of the clearing for a different angle, closer to where Arthur was sitting.

And Arthur, well shit he wasn't sure how to answer that question. He's technically done a bit of everything. He's done a bit of ranching, bounty hunting, actual hunting, gambling, and whatever else being an outlaw has him doing to make a score.

“Well, I suppose you could say I'm a kinda jack of all trades, master of none. Just last week I brought in a fella for poisoning the town with his snake oil, and a lady who had trouble keepin her men alive -- both bounties ya see. Then the other day I was helpin to move some sheep to auction. And there's been some other odds and ends kinda jobs the rest of the time I suppose.” He shrugged and flipped his journal to the next page and began to sketch the coyote from earlier. “What about you? Surely you ain't out here for a living, you woulda been eaten well before now.”

Mason chuckled nervously, “Yes, very observant. Most of the year I'm just a humble teacher - literature and history. But I didn't want to simply be part of the retelling of history and the stories that tell its tales Mr.Morgan, I wanted to be a part of it, maybe even tell a story of my own.” He paused watching another coyote ignore his bait and run off, “but I'm afraid as you can see it's not going terribly well.”

“Not everyone's cut out for this life, but that's okay. The world could probably benefit from more people like yourself and less people like me.” Without people like him stealing, killing, and robbing folks like Mason, the world probably would be a better place. But that's why Arthur wanted to go further west. Away from the sensible folk and towards the other savage outlaws who had no respect for civility, law, and order.

“Nonsense. Without people like you, I would have been some animal’s dinner quite some time ago, so thank you again Mr. Morgan, truly I--ah!” he fumbled to snap a picture of a coyote that darted in and grabbed the whole pile of bait and dragged it off into the woods. “Well I suppose that's it for me today. It was a pleasure, Mr. Morgan, perhaps our paths will cross again.”

“Sure,” said Arthur as he stood up and whistled for his horse. He watched for a moment as Mason fumbled to put his things away. “Just try not to get yourself eaten in the meantime.”

Mason laughed, “I will certainly try sir, but I make no guarantees.”

Arthur laughed and shook his head as his pocketed his journal, mounted his horse, and rode off back to camp. 

*

Arthur had just gotten back from that mess of a mission down in Blackwater rescuing Sean when he next saw Mr. Mason. This time Arthur had been exploring further North and he knew nothing good could come from Mason's trip in the north. The north meant bears, wolves, and God knows what else. 

Yet there he was, standing at the base of a tree, straining to reach the branch he was tying the bait to. A huge hunk of meat, relatively fresh. And certainly very alluring for whatever predator Mason was itching to capture. Arthur had a very bad feeling about this.

It was a miracle that Arthur managed to keep finding this man at every turn where he seemed to try his damndest to get eaten. 

“Woah girl,” he said as he tugged at the reins to pull his horse to a stop. Mason jumped and turned to look at him.

“Oh, Mr. Morgan, good heavens you startled me. It seems that luck is watching over me to reunite us again in such similar circumstances.” Mason finished tying the rope to the branch and nodded to himself before walking back to where his camera was set up.

“So, what’re you on the menu for today?” Arthur asked. He knew he wouldn't like the answer, whatever it was, and went ahead and pulled his shotgun from the saddle, slinging it over his shoulders before walking closer.

Mason grabbed the handheld part of his camera and waved Arthur closer, his voice quiet and low, “come and see for yourself Mr. Morgan.” 

He moved quietly towards the other man and looked toward where he was pointing. There in the back edge of the forest was a pair of wolves creeping towards the bait. On the one hand at least it wasn't a bear -- Hosea had already tried to kill him -- but at the same time…

“This ain't good, somethin's off.” He pointed towards the wolves, “there's only the two of them there.”

“More than enough, I was worried I wouldn't even see one, and look at how majestic and magnificent they are. It will be a shame to see what comes of them, humans are so unforgiving with their desire to claim the land, never considering cost.”

“That's not what I mean, I mean wolves don't hunt in pairs,” he grabbed his shotgun off his back and got it ready, “they hunt in packs.”

He took a moment to take in the scene, listening closely and scanning the area while trying to keep an eye on the two approaching the bait. From behind them he heard a branch snap and turned just in time to see another pair flanking them teeth barred - hungry. 

They sprung into action sprinting towards Mason, and Arthur could do nothing but act on instinct. He moved himself between the wolves and Mason, readying his shotgun and landing a shot right in the center of its head. Arthur had no time to prepare before he saw the next wolf coming his way. He grabbed two slugs from his bandolier, shoving them in his gun and elbowing Mason away in the process.

“Mr. Morgan I believe you've provoked them!” Mason cried as he fell against the tree.

“I didn't provoke nothin!” Arthur shouted back, shooting the next wolf in the head, “they're just wolves!”

He felt claws ripping into his back as he was knocked forward by one of the wolves jumping on his back. He must've missed the two at the bait moving in. Arthur let out a shout in pain as it clamped its jaw down on his shoulder. He reached into his coat, desperately searching for his knife, pulled it out and slammed it to the hilt in the wolf's neck. The beast let go and let out a howl of pain before collapsing off him onto its side. 

That just left one, Arthur hoped, but where the hell was it? He looked around, scanning the trees for any sign as he grabbed more slugs and reloaded his gun. The wolf couldn't have gone far, he was sure of that much. Arthur glanced towards Mason, the man had his back pressed against the tree, watching Arthur - silently, for once.

And there it was, the final wolf was creeping out from the other side of the tree from where Mason was, looking to prepare for a strike. Arthur made eye contact with Mason, held one finger up to his lips to try and tell the man to stay quiet. Mason nodded, but Arthur could see how the man was shaking. 

The wolf was holding steady, seeming to be waiting for someone to make the first move. Arthur shifted his shotgun to his right hand, aiming it at the side of the tree the wolf was moving around, and then before he could think too much about it, he reached out, grabbed the front of Mason's vest and pulled the man toward him. Arthur twisted his arm, shoving Mason behind him and angling himself toward the wolf that saw its chance and was surging toward them. 

He took a shot at it, but missed and the wolf lunged, Arthur just barely managed to raise his left arm in front of him before the wolf clamped down on it. The force of the bite caused him to stumble and Arthur fell down, gun clattering out of his hand as his back hit the ground. The wolf let go of his arm and was now snapping towards Arthur's neck. 

Arthur would be damned if he died to a wolf today, here like this. After all the shit he'd been through he sure as hell refused to go out like this - especially after all the shit he'd given Marston up on that mountain. Might as well call himself a hypocrite.

He reached out and grabbed the wolf by the throat, not doing much of anything other than putting some distance between the wolf and his sorry neck. To his side he could see his gun. 

“Mr. Mason! Get this thing offa me!”

“What? You can't mean, I mean I've never-”

“Grab the damn gun and shoot it!”

Mason shuffled over and grabbed the gun, aiming it down, “what if I accidentally hit you?”

“That's a chance I'm willing to take,” he grunted, moving his left arm to help try and fight off the wolf, “now c'mon!”

He heard the gunshot and felt the wolf go limp above him, blood spilling over its fur and onto Arthur's chest and shoulder as he shoved the thing off of him. Standing above him was Mason, gun still pointed his direction with a look of bewilderment on his face.

Arthur grabbed the stock and pointed it skywards as he struggled his way onto his feet. “Thank you Mr. Mason, you saved my life, but how about you don't undo all your hard work by accidentally shooting me in the face, huh?”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he let go of the gun and took a step back, “I didn't think I could do it-”

“But ya did, thank you.” Arthur grunted in pain and started shrugging off his duster. “Hey, over in my horse's saddle there should be some bandages and whiskey, would you mind?”

Mason started walking over to his horse, and Arthur watched her bounce up and down on her front hooves before settling down when he approached. There was probably a lot in those saddlebags Mason shouldn't see, like the poisonous plants he grabbed for his knives, or the stash he grabbed from the train robbery, or hell even the mask he used for that part of his life. But right now he was mostly just worried about bleeding out.

He half-watched Mason rummaging through the bags, muttering to himself, Arthur only managed to catch a few phrases like “oh my” and the like. “If you can't find the bandages, one of the shirts’ll do, Mr. Mason.”

“There we are,” Mason announced triumphantly, carrying over one of Arthur's plain white shirts and a bottle of whiskey and handed Arthur both. 

“Thanks,” he said, pulling the cork out of the whiskey with his teeth and taking a swig. He set it aside and started peeling his shirt off - even if it wasn't for all the tears, the shirt would be finished simply because of all the blood. Arthur decided to start with the easiest wounds first, and that was his left arm.

Taking the bottle of whiskey he splashed it on his arm wound and then another swig himself. Then he fished around in his duster pocket for the kit he carried around to stitch himself up. It wasn't exactly the most sanitary or efficient, but it's not like he's out here claiming to be a doctor or nothin. It was just a needle - blunt and something he got from Tilly back at camp - and some fishing line wire.

“Are ya squeamish, Mr. Mason?” he asked.

“I don't think I can afford to be in this line of work.” 

“Good, then c’mere. You ever done any kind of stitching?”

Mason crouched beside him, “Only mending shirts, clothing, and the like.”

“That'll do, this won't be anything fancy. Now I can only do my arm, I'll need you to help me with my back, can you do that?”

“I'll do my best.”

Arthur nodded and got to work, Mason hovering over and watching as Arthur threaded the wire in the needle and started working, holding it up and rather crudely started sewing his skin back together. When he finished he cut the line with his knife, splashed it with some more whiskey and dabbed it with the shirt.

“All right, I'm ready. It's the least I can do since you've once again saved me, Mr. Morgan, and I am in your debt. Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to a doctor? Valentine isn't too far away.”

“No, no, this is fine. Ain't nothin worse than what I've patched up myself before without a doctor.” He chuckled, “hell this isn't even the worst I've had this year.”

Arthur handed Mason the supplies and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees lower his head. He felt Mason use the shirt to wipe away the blood and then douse the wounds in whiskey. “The other wounds?” Mason asked, running his fingers over the still healing scars on his back. 

“Yep, now those were from a fun one.”

“What happened, if I might ask?” Mason had started working on the first claw wound on his shoulder.

“Bear attack. Mean sonuvabitch at that. Was missin an eye and everything.” Arthur chuckled remembering the trip with Hosea, “I got dragged out with a buddy of mine, I think of him like a father or an uncle, he helped raise me. But anyway my buddy says ‘Hey Arthur let's go hunting’ and I agree, stupid me. If I had known he wanted to go after that damn bear I mighta said no.”

“You fought a bear and survived? Incredible!” Mason ran his fingers over a particularly large scar on his shoulder and Arthur couldn't help but shiver involuntarily. “I would have loved to capture such a beast.” 

“Don't go gettin any ideas. Wolves is about as dangerous as I'm willin to get on your behalf. ‘sides I don't fancy challenging death against a bear again any time soon.” 

“Oh I have no plans for that, Mr. Morgan, I assure you. As it is, I would never be able to guarantee that you would even be there and then the bear would only have me for a snack.” The man behind him started to carefully work the needle through his skin, quietly apologizing anytime Arthur flinched away and hissed in pain. 

“So, was this trip worth it Mr. Mason? Did you get any good shots before the bastards jumped us?” 

“I do hope so! I would hate to think you suffered all this for nothing.” Mason reached over him and grabbed the whiskey again, splashing the newly stitched wound clean before moving to the other ones. “Perhaps if we cross paths again I can show you the finished product after I process it. It always takes at least a few days as I have to return to my home where I have all my supplies set up.” 

“I think I'd like that.” Arthur says quietly, “In that case, I hope I see ya again, but hopefully chasing after somethin just a little less deadly.” 

Mason laughed at that, wiping down his back one last time with the shirt. “I make no promises Mr. Morgan, after all there's still so many fantastic creatures to capture, and so few are friendly. But in any case, you're all patched up, and hopefully that stitching will hold for the time being.” 

Arthur took the whiskey back from him, downing the rest of it. “Well, it's starting to get dark, you should head back before the sun fully sets, and I plan on doing the same. Fightin them wolves is one thing in the daytime but at night it's their playing field, and I don't intend to stick around to give them another shot.”

He scrounged around in his saddlebag for the only other shirt he carried on him and put it on before dragging the now tattered duster back to shield him against the brisk air - even if it wasn't a whole lot. 

They each mounted their respective horses and Arthur tipped his hat. “Until next time Mr. Mason.”

“Farewell, Mr. Morgan. And please, call me Albert. I think we surpassed such formalities after today.” 

“In that case, call me Arthur.” 

*

The next time he sees Albert is after he finished dropping a carriage off with Seamus for a pretty penny out by Emerald Ranch. It was an easy enough way to make money, and they could definitely use the money considering none of the other deadweights at camp seemed to be contributing. Sure they dropped a couple dollars here and there, did some light hunting occasionally, but all the money to fund the camp upgrades? That was Arthur. Restocking their supplies? Also Arthur. Honestly, sometimes he wonders if the camp would even survive without him. 

Especially because he knew the others were making good money, hell they even invited him along to help with some of their scores. But did their contributions ever make the way into the contribution box? Nope. 

Arthur was almost sure if he just fucked off for 2 weeks like they did and didn't come back to camp they might just start rethinking their contributions. Maybe he should give it a try… 

Hell, the last time he was away from camp for more than a few days Mrs. Grimshaw angrily stormed after him sayin how she hadn't seen him contributing to the box in awhile. It was like rubbing salt in the wound. He hadn't even had a response for her so he had just stalked back to his tent and sat by himself in silence for the rest of the night. 

He was in the middle of this thought when he saw Albert out in the middle of the plains, camera looking out across the rolling grass, and further off in the distance, a herd of horses. Arthur started to trot over and pulled out his binoculars to take a better look. They were some damn good steeds. 

“Ah, Mr. M--Arthur! Aren't they just wonderful? A whole herd of wild Mustangs. Just breathtaking.” 

“Albert,” Arthur greeted him, tipping his hat as he pulled his horse to a stop. “Nice to see ya chasing something that won't eat you for once. Maybe trample you, but not eat you. You really think horses are going anywhere though? Seems unlikely to me.”

“We already have trains, Arthur, at this rate anything is possible. And besides, perhaps horses will still be around, but wild ones? The west is on a quest to single handedly break and stable every horse out there.” Albert took a step back and put one hand on his hip and gestured to Arthur with the other, ”Take yourself for example. This is the third horse I've seen you with, and I've only had the pleasure of seeing you three times.”

Arthur couldn't help but grin sheepishly and pat his horse. “What can I say, I can't resist a good horse. ‘sides, I think this one will be sticking around awhile, I ain't never had a horse as fine as this one before.” 

Albert nodded and approached slowly, holding out his hand before petting her snout. “What breed is she? I had assumed a Kentucky Saddler at first, but she's much too tall and well built to be such a common breed.”

“As far as I can tell, she's an Arabian. I found her up in the mountains, practically blended into the snowstorm as white as her coat is. We actually got chased by wolves coming back down south but she's fast as a whip and out ran ‘em like they were nothin.”

“You should be very proud. I've half a mind to abandon the Mustangs and capture her instead, but she's not wild - not anymore.” Albert stepped back and moved back to his camera. “Now Arthur, you said you had experience with ranching previously, and you seem to be perfectly adept at catching horses. I know horses and sheep are wildly different, but would you be able to help me get the herd closer to the camera?”

“Why I'd be more than happy to,” Arthur adjusted the grip of the reins in his hand, clicked his tongue, and started riding towards the herd. They weren't spooked as he started to approach, which Arthur took as a good sign. Hell he might even be able to show off a little like this. He guided his horse wide around the herd so he'd be approaching in just such a way that the herd would run straight ahead and directly in front of the camera. 

Just for show, he also pulled out his lasso -- it'd been awhile since he used it for horses instead of people he was robbing, wrangling, or killing -- and started moving it in easy circles over his head. He kept shouting at the herd in front of him as he chased them along to encourage them to keep going. They finally crested over the hill, stampeding down into the plains right in front of Albert who snapped the picture at what Arthur could only assume was the perfect time. 

He chased the herd just a little further for fun until they ran off past the railroad tracks before Arthur turned around and rode back to Albert. He dismounted his horse just as the other man had started packing up his things.

“Once again I can't thank you enough, Arthur. That picture was incredible! I can only hope others think so.”

“Happy to oblige, Albert. You keep chasing pictures of horses and animals like this and you might not be able to get rid of me.” Arthur chuckled, leaning back against his horse. 

Albert hummed to himself as he rummaged through his saddlebags. “I don't think that would be such a bad thing. You're a handy man to have around. And besides I've come to very much enjoy your company.” 

Arthur felt his face flush and he tipped his hat down a little lower to cover more of his face. He didn't often get folks telling him things like that. And when he did it was usually from women, women like Mary. Occasionally Dutch or Hosea would say something nice like that as well, but not exactly like that. They usually said things more like what a father would say to his son. This was… different. 

“Oh! There it is. I have something for you, Arthur.” Albert pulled a small piece of paper from his bag and handed it over. “I know it's not enough to make up for what you went through, but I want you to have it.”

He took the paper from Albert, flipping it over in his hands. It was a picture from the last time he saw Albert and it captured the image as the wolves stalked toward the camera perfectly. It was the best photograph Arthur had ever seen. Arthur tried to capture moments in his life where he could with any photographs he could get his hands on, but usually he captured it with the drawings in his journal. 

Most of the photographs he had were staged and static, like the portrait of his mother, or the picture of him, Dutch, and Hosea sitting stiff as boards. None of them captured a moment and feeling like this though. He could practically feel the ghost of claw marks in his back as he ran a thumb over the picture. 

“This is for me? I, I don't know what to say,” he stammered as he continued to trace the picture in his hands. “Thank you Albert, this is…” _the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me_ “this is really somethin.”

“It's the least I could do, truly.” He smiled, “Though I must confess I didn't think you would react this well. Not everyone enjoys the marvel of photography.”

“I take some pictures myself periodically but it's usually easier for me to keep track of things like that in my journal. The last set of photos I got was for some writer documenting the life of some gunslinger, had me tracking down all the other famous gunslingers the fella had supposedly beaten in duels.”

“If you have the time I'd love to hear the story,” Albert proposed. And well, maybe this would be a good time for that break from camp. He didn't have any real reason to go back just yet. 

“Sure, but if these stories bore you just let me know. It's gonna be dark soon though so we should either head into town or set up camp first.” 

“If it's a story about a rugged western gunslinger the setting should match the story don't you think? Let's set up camp.” Truth be told, Arthur was glad Albert decided on the camp. He didn't want to show his face at Emerald Ranch more than he needed to, and he also wasn't too keen on going into Valentine any time soon. Last he knew, the sheriff still wanted his head in Valentine after that business with Leviticus Cornwall after all. 

He offered to get some wood for a fire while Albert set up the rest of camp. When he finally brought back the last bundle of firewood, he saw Albert making himself comfortable where he sat leaning against a fallen log. Arthur smiled at the sight and started working on getting the fire started. He was surprised to see the other man taking so well to the outdoors, since even though he was focused on taking pictures of all the creatures in the area, the man didn't seem like the type to thrive in the outdoors. 

They settled around the fire on opposite sides with their horses hitched nearby, and Arthur continued his story, “Right, so the first gunslinger I went after was actually some lady. Called herself Black Belle. She was a helluva shot I'll tell you that. As soon as I got there we were surrounded by bounty hunters out to get her. But Belle, ooh, that woman was something else. She had the whole area rigged with dynamite, and I helped her take the rest out -- it was her one condition to get the story from her as well as the picture.”

“Do you have the picture with you by chance?” 

“Sure, let me show ya.” Arthur pulled out his journal and flipped to the entry from when he met her and pulled the photo out from between the pages. “Here ya go.” 

He passed the photo to Albert who took it and held it slightly towards the fire to illuminate it. “She looks like quite the woman, especially with that pose. You never truly hear much about women gunslingers or much of women in history in general really. I'm sure history will appreciate having a photo of her to remember her legacy. You said these were for someone writing a book? “

“Yeah some fella in a saloon in Valentine. I'm not even sure where to find him again to give him the pictures he asked for. I suppose he's planning on including the photos but I'm not too sure.” Arthur shrugged and took the photo when Albert handed it back to him. “There were 3 others I ended up tracking down but none as memorable as Belle. They were all paranoid or angry old loons who insisted on dueling me. Unfortunately for them, they weren't quite the shots they were back in their heyday. The only pictures I could take was of them after the duel. Such a shame too at that. These folks weren't exactly easy to find or get to. I spent quite a while getting up to the one fella in the mountains, and then it was all over in just a few minutes. A damn shame.”

“Was there no chance to reason with them?” Albert asked. It was a fair question. He knew how this made him look, and it wasn't exactly favorable. 

“Not really for two of them. They were delusional, as soon as I found them their hand went right for their holster. It was them or me, and well, I chose me. The third though, oh he was a real piece of work. I don't think the man ever really earned the reputation he had. When I found him he was slinging pig shit around, then made me sling pig shit around for him, and then when I started getting a little upset cause he wasn't telling me anything, he charged at me. I may have put a few more shots in him than necessary, but I never said I was a good man, and he was really askin for it.”

Arthur flipped through his journal and pulled out the other three photos and passed them over. They sat in silence as Albert flipped through them, taking in the sight of the three men each splayed out on different surfaces but each of them bloody and very much dead. 

The sun had fully set now and they were surrounded by the darkness and everything in it; all the animals just waking up to hunt, the insects chirping from the grass and forest, and the sound of the rushing water of the river nearby. 

Albert finally spoke as he handed the pictures back, “I must admit, when I first saw these I was disturbed, after all who wouldn't be seeing images of people on the ground dead. But the truth is we're surrounded by death every day, especially not so long ago when the war was happening. And when you truly stop to think about it, what killed these men was the same thing that killed those wolves. Survival of the fittest as the late and great Charles Darwin said. These men attacked you believing themselves to be the fittest and you proved them wrong. I can't find fault in nature.”

That didn't exactly make Arthur feel any better. Part of him had been hoping Albert would reprimand him, call him a monster and leave, not rationalize his actions. “I mean I guess if you were talking about animals, sure. But we ain't animals. If anything shouldn't we be better than them, or at least try to be? I'm not sayin I wasn't defending myself, ‘cause I was, but at least with the one fella at a certain point I enjoyed it.”

“Do animals not take pride and enjoyment in the hunt and their kills? It's why we play with house cats with yarn, and take dogs bird hunting.” Albert stared him down as he made his point, ”And for that matter have humans not caused even worse atrocities and taken pleasure in them? For years people have taken great pleasure in dehumanizing others, viewing them as nothing more than objects and currency. Forgive me if I overstep my place, but you still seem to have a vast wealth of empathy and compassion within you, Arthur. You still care about people as people.”

Arthur sighed and leaned back. “I suppose you have a point. It sure doesn't feel like it sometimes though.” 

“The fact that you struggle with it is proof enough. You've helped me several times at this point, and saved my life more than I likely deserved. When the wolves began to attack us, I--I was terrified. I froze. If you hadn't put yourself in harm's way to pull me away and make sure I was safe, I would have probably died there in that forest with no one the wiser. No matter what you've done, I believe you're a good person, Arthur.”

“More the fool you then.” Arthur grumbled, not with malicious intent though. “What are you doing out here trying to get yourself killed for anyway? Don't you have friends or family waiting for you back home?”

“Ah,” Albert let out a dry laugh, “No such family to speak of I'm afraid and my friends are all aware that I'm out here. Most of them are colleagues so they're eagerly anticipating the completion of this project.”

“Why aren't any of them out here helping ya then?”

“Oh they're convinced I'm a fool out to catch my death. But they still want to see the photos I get and hear the stories. Most of them believe I won't have the nerve to get any pictures.”

“Sounds like they're also fools then,” Arthur said. “Little do they know you weren't born with any sense in your head the way you throw yourself to the wolves.” Arthur laughed as Albert feigned offense. 

“Fools indeed. But so long as they're not here, I do get to keep your company all to myself.” Albert said, then must have realized what he said as he flushed cherry red in the light of the campfire. “Ah, it's late now, so I think we should try to get some sleep.” 

Arthur found it both incredibly endearing, but also confusing, so he agreed, "I suppose we should."

They each settled into their respective bedrolls and slept for the evening. Arthur didn't know about Albert, but he hardly slept a wink, head so filled with thoughts that he knew he shouldn't be thinking. The things Albert said, the sense of calm and ease their conversations brought, well it was one of the only things that truly made Arthur happy recently, he realized. He wanted…

What did he want?

To spend more time with Albert, that he was sure of. But the rest, well, that was complicated. And Arthur wasn't fond of complicated things.So he pushed it out of his mind as he woke, the soft morning sunlight shining through the trees stirring Arthur awake. Across from him, Albert still slept soundly. Truly, the man wasn't cut out for this type of life at all.

Arthur pulled out his journal, as he did every morning when he camped out alone, taking a moment to put his thoughts down on paper. He enjoyed the peace and quiet, found it relaxing to clear his mind. Oftentimes he would find himself reading through his past entries, just, remembering.

Feeling a bit better and with a clearer mind, he started brewing some coffee. He didn't always make it in the mornings, usually preferred to just get going and start the day's journey, but something told him Albert might appreciate it. Sure enough, shortly after the strong scent of coffee started filling the air, he could see Albert stirring.

"Mornin'," he called out, "coffee?"

He watched the man rub his eyes before sitting up and focusing on Arthur. "Good morning, Arthur," then spotting the coffee Arthur had offered, "oh yes, I would love some." 

Arthur took out two tin cups from his satchel, pouring each of them a cup and handing one to Albert who had rolled up his bedroll already and moved closer to the fire.

"Thank you."

They sat in silence, each drinking their coffee and taking in the sounds of sight of the morning. Above them, the wind rustled through the leaves, swaying the branches. Song birds were everywhere, chittering and whistling all around. 

"It's lovely isn't it?" Albert said softly, staring up into the trees. "The splendor of nature."

Arthur admired the way the sun lit up Albert's face, calm and peaceful with a soft smile. "It sure is." 

Eventually, Albert passed his empty tin cup back to Arthur and stood up. "I'm afraid this is where we must part ways again, Arthur. I must get back home to develop these photos."

Arthur took the cup and stood as well. "Try not to get yourself killed out there without me."

"Oh," Albert laughed, "I may make a delicious meal for an animal someday, but hopefully not anytime soon." He mounted his horse, turned to Arthur, and smiled. "Take care of yourself, Arthur. I sincerely hope our paths cross again."

"Same to you, Albert."

*

Arthur was down right exhausted, tired of everything happening at camp, tired of all the hare-brained schemes that kept backfiring, and tired of this damned swamp. It hadn't been so bad when he was helping Black Belle or hunting the wildlife. But now he was just… tired.

It seemed like life was out to get him, and right now, it was winning.

At the moment Arthur was out in the swamp, knee deep in mud, searching for some plants for a bizarre man he had met called Algernon. Now Arthur liked to pride himself on his observation skills especially when it came to plants and animals he had come across over the years. It was why he had agreed to help the man in the first place. 

What Arthur hadn't been expecting - though perhaps by now he should have known better - was seeing one Albert Mason standing on the muddy swamp bank with his camera set up; an open invitation for trouble. How this man had not gotten himself killed yet still amazed Arthur.

He approached the man from behind, saying, "They creep up on ya, you know?" 

Albert staggered a few steps backwards, hand clutching at his chest, as he laughed nervously, "Oh, Arthur!" 

"How are ya?"

"Better now that I have the company of a friend such as you." Albert smiled and moved back to his camera, gazing intently at the swamp.

"Somethin tells me you're out here for more dangerous animals than horses this time." 

"Today I intend to capture the beauty of one of the most notorious and impressive creatures America has to offer: the alligator."

Arthur sighed, "Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that." 

"Sadly their numbers are dwindling because the people would rather kill them to bind their bibles. I hope to change that, to sway the people's minds and have them realize what a gift these creatures truly are."

"Well you're not gonna get the chance to change anyone's mind if you keep standin' there. C'mon, let's take the boat and I'll protect you." Arthur already had the man's bag in hand, moving it into the boat. 

"Oh, are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'd mind it far more if you got yourself eaten." Arthur held his hand out, gesturing for Albert to pass him his camera and stand, taking it and setting up in the boat. Albert climbed into the boat moments later, ears bright pink as he cleared his throat and stared out into the swamp. 

Arthur began rowing the boat out into the swamp while Albert scouted, eventually shouting out three different locations for Arthur to row them to. While Arthur rowed, Albert told him all sorts of facts about alligators to which he half listened to, but mostly he was just enjoying the company. It was refreshing, to hear someone excited and talking about something that makes them genuinely happy. Albert was so animated and alive as he talked, so cautiously optimistic. 

"Oh! Over there, right on that small island, line us up with the shore if you don't mind." Albert asked, practically falling out of the boat in excitement. Arthur lined them up, squinting to see the gator in the tall weeds. "I can't get a good shot like this, would you mind getting its attention?"

If it had been anyone else, Arthur probably would have said no. But… "Ah hell, why not." 

"Excellent! Just get its attention and come right back to the boat. There's no need to get yourself eaten."

"Sure," Arthur deadpanned. He hopped out of the boat into the waist deep water and climbed his way ashore, slowly creeping his way up to the gator. Carefully, he stepped closer and closer until the gator's jaw opened up with a hiss and Arthur went sprinting back towards the boat. 

The gator must have been awfully close to him judging by Albert's frantic calls, "Hurry! Get in the boat - in, in, in, in, in!"

The sound of the camera went off right as Arthur pulled himself back into the boat before falling heavily into the seat, pushing the boat off the edge of the island back into the center of the swamp. His heart was racing in his chest, but it was worth it. 

"Magnificent! Truly, oh thank you Arthur!" exclaimed Albert. He was beamed, practically radiating happiness as he folded up his tripod and moved to put his things back in his bag then sat down beside Arthur.

"You get what you were after then?" Arthur asked, making no move to row the boat further, instead just letting it float in the middle of the swamp. 

"Oh I hope so, with a shot like that the people will see these creatures for what they truly are."

"Killing machines?" Arthur retorted.

Albert laughed. "No, well, yes… maybe that's not a bad thing. This is America after all; we have a love for killers that borders on macabre." His tone shifted then, becoming softer as he looked away from Arthur out into the swamp, "Loving killers is… part of our makeup." 

Arthur's heart began hammering away in his chest, "Is it now?" 

They sat there, just to two of them in the small boat in the middle of the swamp, probably miles away from anyone else, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the narrow bench. Beside him, a blush was creeping up Albert's neck. "Why else would I be out here after all?"

"Fair point." 

"Arthur," Albert said quietly, turning towards him. "I know you believe yourself to be a killer, you probably value yourself no more highly than you do these alligators. But that's not all you are. That's not the man I've had the privilege to get to know over these few choice encounters. You are a kind and honorable man who has time and again gone above and beyond to help a fool such as myself. True you may have some rougher edges, but that's simply nature. Life."

"You don't know me, Albert. I'm not the kind of man you think I am."

"I may not know all of you, but I know this side of you that you've chosen to show me. To share with me. And… I've grown quite fond of you." Albert turned until he was facing Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder before leaning in and pressing his lips softly against Arthur's. 

It was nice. It was real nice. When Albert pulled away, Arthur instinctively chased him, sliding a hand around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Albert hummed happily against his lips.

When Arthur let go, he said quietly, "Likin' me won't bring you anything but trouble." 

Albert laughed, motioning at the swamp around them. "Yes, because I've been doing such a splendid job at avoiding trouble so far." 

"I'm serious, Albert." 

"I have no disillusionment that this," he gestured between them, "would ever be something of a more permanent nature. I will eventually have to return to teaching, and I'm certain that there is no place in the life you lead for someone as foolish and hazard prone like myself. But, if you'll allow it, I'd like to enjoy these moments that fate seems all too happy to provide to us."

It was clear that Albert had thought about this, just as Arthur had on many sleepless nights. And as much as Arthur's mind told him this was a bad idea, was it really the end of the world to allow him this brief slice of happiness in his life? "You're sure?"

"Oh heavens no, I'm not sure of anything in my life. But, I would like to try."

Arthur took his hand gently in his own, admiring the way Albert's hands lacked the same callouses a man with Arthur's life could never seem to get rid of. "All right."

They came together again, kissing tenderly with the sway of the boat, enjoying the feeling of one another. It was hardly the most romantic spot, but it was a peaceful one. 

They chatted quietly, Arthur telling him about some of his most recent escapades -- making sure to leave out most of the details. In turn, Albert told him about the people in his life, the classes he teaches, the other adventures he's had that Arthur hasn't stumbled across him on. 

Eventually the sun began to set. 

"You should be on your way while there's still some daylight left." Arthur said.

"Saint Denis is miles away. I would never make it back before dark. I would feel much safer setting up camp -- if you have nowhere else to be?"

"Nowhere at all. It'd be my pleasure."

*

Weeks passed after the alligator excursion and Arthur found himself thinking back fondly on their encounter when times were rough - which seemed to be more often than not these days. The pages of his journal were worn, the spine bent at the place of each of the pages where Arthur had detailed their meetings. 

Somehow, Arthur found himself back near their first campsite near Valentine.. If he could go back in time, to before everything that's happened -- well, there was no use in dwelling on what-if's and could-have-been's. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur spotted the now very familiar hat Albert was fond of wearing. The man was perched right on the edge of the cliff, and Arthur smiled at the all too familiar sight.

"Come on, just a little closer--" he heard Albert mutter under his breath, right as he stepped where there was no ground and he went sliding over the edge.

"Albert!" Arthur shouted, heart sinking like a stone as he rushed towards the edge, glancing over the side, expecting the worst.

But somehow, Albert with all of the luck in the universe on his side, managed to catch himself, hugging the side of the cliff for dear life. "Arthur?" He called out, looking up, "Oh thank God, Arthur! Please, help me up!"

Arthur knelt at the edge, making sure he had a solid stance before grabbing Albert's arm and hoisting him up, "I gotcha, c'mere."

Once Albert was safely out of harm's way, lying on the ground in front of Arthur he said, "Once again, you've found me at the most fortuitous time, and I am deeply and sincerely in your debt." 

"I just wish I would stop finding you one wrong move away from certain death," Arthur admitted. "Give my poor heart a break, will ya?"

Albert sat up and placed a hand on Arthur's knee. "I'm afraid you won't need to worry about me much longer. This was the last photoshoot I was going to attempt. A pitiful attempt to capture eagles, which I think is safe to say I will not be continuing; I do value my life to some extent after all." 

"You're leaving then?"

"Returning to a life of academia I'm afraid. Unfortunately a talentless fool like myself cannot hope to make a living doing this, and even if I could, I fear it would be a short-lived life." Albert smiled sadly. "I will miss these meetings of ours... I will miss you."

"Yeah," Arthur said quietly, "So will I."

He leaned in, kissing Arthur, bittersweet. 

Arthur tried desperately to push down the feeling of overwhelming sadness when Albert pulled away. "When do you have to leave?" 

Albert glanced up at the sky and frowned, rising to his feet. "Essentially now. I have a long way to go to return home. Thank you for all you've done for me. Truly. I know I would likely not be standing here now if it were not for you." 

Arthur stood beside him, at a loss for the right words to say. "I'll suppose I'll feel better knowin you're safe in some classroom instead of tempting fate with any more cliffs and wild animals." 

"You're a good man, Arthur. One of the best I've had the great fortune to know. I hope one day you'll see in yourself what I've seen all along."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first 2/3 of this literally right after the game came out and I finished this questline. At the time there were absolutely no fics for these two so imagine my surprise now that there's more than 100! Even now, years after playing this game, I'm still struck by what a happier/softer side of Arthur this questline was able to show.


End file.
